


Talk to Me

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Mantaro struggles alone with the truth.After a while, the burden of being hurt affects his grades and friendships. It's only when things reach their worst that his friends help him to see the light at the end of the tunnel, and he finds the strength to finally ask for help.





	Talk to Me

_‘Ah, there you are, Mantaro.’_

_Mantaro stopped with a bright smile. He placed a hand on his hip, while the other scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, and – as he kicked at the floor with the toe of his boot – Robin loomed over him with clipboard in hand. The hallway was deserted, although there were some sounds of scuffles and hushed arguments from the kitchen. A shadow of a walrus-shaped figure darted through the open kitchen door. It danced across the opposite wall._

_In the darkness, Mantaro realised the idea of a ‘lookout’ was terrible. Robin made no mention of the breaking of curfew, but a low chuckle escaped his lips and was muffled by the metal of his mask. He pointed to the clock above them. Mantaro stumbled over a thousand different excuses, each one fast and stuttered and incoherent as he bushed a dark shade of red, and Robin – with loud laughter – clapped a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. It was a firm grip, but the thumb brushed against the pulse of his neck in a rhythmic motion._

_‘Your grades are slipping, m’boy,’ said Robin._

_Mantaro frowned. Suguru would be asleep in his room, while his peers would be in their dormitories or raiding the kitchen, but the touch . . . it was too gentle for bad news, but too intimate for a teacher. He subtly pulled back. Mantaro scratched at the spot where skin met skin, as he pursed together his lips and glanced towards the kitchen. Kid yelled out something about overcooking the meat, while Seiuchin extolled the virtues of fish over beef, and Gazelleman muttered about a lack of vegetarian options. Mantaro shuffled from foot to foot._

_‘Come to my office tomorrow night, Mantaro,’ said Robin._

_‘Huh? Oh, er, I thought office hours were –’_

_‘Ah, I know, but I’ll make an exception for you, lad. Eight o’clock, yes?’_

_Robin brushed the back of his knuckles over Mantaro’s cheek. He lingered at those plump lips, and – as Mantaro instinctively flinched – they accidentally pressed like a kiss against the callused digits, drawing another chuckle from Robin. Mantaro pulled back with a glare, as he opened his mouth to protest the odd behaviour, but Robin was already darting down the corridor towards the instructors’ quarters. He was still staring after the older man, when Kid poked his head out of kitchen and looked both ways, before he asked:_

_‘Hey, what was that, Mantaro?’_

_A wave of nausea washed through Mantaro, as he swallowed hard. He half-turned to see Kid leaning still in his wrestling uniform, albeit with various pieces of food stuck to his blond locks from a food-fight, while someone cheered inside as the oven-timer beeped. A frown betrayed Kid’s concern. The pain on Mantaro’s cheek was the only sign that he was rubbing the skin raw and breaking through part of his mask. He feigned a smile and confessed:_

_‘I haven’t a clue . . .’_

* * *

Mantaro kept his head down. The stadium was alive with various grunts and groans, as two wrestlers took over the ring and fought with great effort, and around them various others took notes or made comments or offered advice. It was nothing like the Hercules Factory, but still there was the feeling of eyes raking over every inch of flesh. The offices above overlooked the stadium. A familiar face stood in the window of one, with hands held behind his back.

He was there every training session.

Mantaro flicked up his collar, as he darted across the stadium. He skidded to a halt by Seiuchin, who lay on the bench and pressed an impressive amount, and the smile that broke over his face – crinkling the corner of his eyes – brought a smile to Mantaro in turn. The bench was warm as he sat beside Seiuchin. He rested his hands on the edge, while a knee nudged him playfully in the back in an attempt to get his attention. Mantaro laughed.

The sound died on his lips as soon as it was born. He brought a trembling hand to his mouth with a shuddered sigh, as Seiuchin finished with the weights and sat upright, and – from the ringside – Kid and Gazelleman wandered across to stand beside them. A few jokes were exchanged, as if he had not missed a minute of practise, and a towel was tossed in his direction, along with a bottle of water. The board in the corner listed various matches. In a few minutes all eyes would be on Mantaro . . . watching, waiting . . . devouring . . .

“Ah,” muttered Mantaro. “I – er – was thinking of ditching tomorrow?”

Seiuchin rapidly blinked. He cricked his neck, as he swung his legs around. The bench creaked under his weight, as he sat beside Mantaro and slapped a hand on his back, and Kid scoffed and kicked hard at the floor with his boot. A silence descended between them, while Gazelleman stretched in anticipation of the upcoming match. The long lunges broke on the corner of Mantaro’s peripheral vision. They blurred with the tears that threatened to spill, even as he forced them back, and Seiuchin – with a long hum – murmured:

“Well, I guess we could do with a break.”

“Yeah, but Harabote won’t be happy if we ditch,” added Kid.

“N-No, but I can’t take the pressure here,” said Mantaro. “It’ll just be a day, but you guys can just carry on with training if you want . . . can you cover for me, though? I was thinking we could hit the arcade, if you wanted to hang with me, and we work out so hard all the time, so we totally deserve some time to ourselves, don’t we? Come on, it’s just one day!”

“Dude, y’ already get the special treatment! You got Robin totally letting you come in late and train less and eat more, so . . . I don’t know . . . I could use a day off, but y’know we’d probably get into more trouble than you. You’re his golden boy.”

“Yeah, but Harabote _hates_ me, so I’d be in just as much trouble!”

“That doesn’t really make it better,” interrupted Gazelleman. “You would _probably_ have Robin covering your back and stopping you from just being thrown out. The worst case scenario, Harabote would concoct some tournament as a thinly veiled excuse to ditch you, but – well – with us . . . we don’t have the option of being teacher’s pet.”

Mantaro fisted his hands. A few crescent-shaped cuts broke over his palms, as a few specks of blood broke on his skin, and his heart raced loud in his ears . . . _pound, pound, pound . . ._ dread welled in the pit of his stomach, bubbling and brewing inside his abdomen. He gasped and choked on the air . . . a few quick and hitched breaths. Mantaro rapidly blinked. The panic grew into anger . . . resentment . . . a glance up at the offices revealed those eyes  eagerly fixed on his body and movements, while they went unseen. Mantaro cried:

“You want to be his favourite? Fine! See how you like it!”

“Geez, when you’re biggest problem is being spoiled, y’know you ain’t got it so bad,” said Kid. “I can’t believe you’re whining like a bull at the slaughter house, just ‘cause you get a bit o’ extra attention from the greatest wrestler after Kinnikuman. Grow up, Mantaro.”

. . . _grow up, Mantaro . . ._

Mantaro jumped upright. He stared hard at those blue eyes, hiding under a quirked eyebrow and lips pulled at one corner, and he kept his hands fisted, even as Kid folded his arms and rolled his eyes at what Gazelleman called a ‘temper tantrum’ under his breath. Seiuchin touched his wrist. It was a light and gentle brush of fingers on soft skin, but the memories it jolted awake . . . the associations, the flashbacks . . . he yanked away with a cry. They stared at him. They seemingly cornered him. He saw their eyes and the eyes of Robin . . .

He ran. Seiuchin called after him, as he darted into the bathroom. The door slammed shut and locked with a loud click, while Mantaro threw his back against the wood and slid down to the tiled floor with gulped gasps for breath. Tears streamed down his cheeks. A shaking hand brushed against wet skin, as he shook his head and willed the tears away, but there – in the darkness of an empty cubicle – the tears refused to stop. He wept until his tears ran dry.

* * *

_‘Hey, Junior, Robin wants to see you!’_

_A burst of bile spilled into his mouth. He choked back on vomit, as he fell forward and spluttered and coughed and retched in an attempt to choke back the acid, and – in those seconds of weakness – Gazelleman gained the upper-hand, knocking him out of the ring with a high kick to the temple. Mantaro rolled in the dirt of the park, before he landed on his back and stared lifelessly at the sun high in the sky above. Tears pricked at his eyes._

_‘You were distracted by that?’ Gazelleman asked._

_‘It is a high honour,’ chirped Meat._

_Mantaro remained flat on the ground. The sun soon burned dark afterimages onto his retinas, while his heart raced loud enough to block out all other sound, and his mouth ran dry and rough and white-hot with pain . . . Gazelleman jumped over the ropes. A trickle of water betrayed Gazelleman cooling down, while Kid tossed a towel to him. The world spun onward, while Mantaro’s life came to a stop. He bit his lip to hide the tremble._

_He remained on the ground, even as Seiuchin knelt beside him. A whispered “are you okay” echoed out, enough to make him force a smile and tell a joke, and – as Seiuchin tried to press the matter – the others gathered around Meat not far from his feet, as he held the official piece of paper high and pointed to the signature emblazoned at the bottom. It was a dream to be have the older generation pay attention to you . . . Jade worshipped Brocken Jnr., Checkmate still saw Sunshine as a father . . . Mantaro blinked away his tears._

_‘I think he wants to see you regular, Junior.’ Meat handed him the letter. ‘He says he’s proud of what you’ve accomplished since graduating and deserve a mentor, someone to help you out in your career to come, and from the headmaster himself -? That’s some good luck!’_

_Mantaro took the letter with a trembling hand. Seiuchin helped him to sit upright, while the others were already assuming the position for a second round of practise matches, and Meat ran through some battle plans on a board at the back. They carried on with their lives. He took in several choked and staggered breaths, while his smile and frown alternated with rapid speed and his vision grew blurred with spotted dots. He choked out:_

_‘Yeah, an honour . . .’_

_* * *_

“Gee, you’re _still_ slacking off?”

Kid flicked at Mantaro’s forehead. It left a small red mark beneath his mask, as he pouted and rubbed at the bruise, and Kid – with soft laughter – threw an arm around him and pulled him into a rough hug, before he ruffled his tuft of brown hair. Mantaro pulled away. A frown passed over Kid, who opened his mouth to speak and quickly closed it again. The silence between them was broken only by the chaotic and overpowering noise of the arcade.

It was a blast of sounds from dozens of machines, as the eight floors competed for intensity, and a young girl darted past carrying an expensive figure, as someone else took her place at the claw machine with a sunken expression. He shoved his hands into his pockets and hunched forward, while Gazelleman leaned against the wall and shared a look with Kid. They locked eyes for a long few seconds. Mantaro scowled and turned his back on them, as he took the controls of a _pachinko_ machine and sat down with a scoff. He spat out:

“So what if I’m taking a break?”

“We _just_ fought Generation Ex,” muttered Gazelleman. “Don’t you think that _maybe_ you could possibly take things a little more seriously? I know we’re also to blame for being lazy and all, but it shouldn’t be only us learning our lesson. Come on, Mantaro.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I just – I just can’t face work, okay?”

“We all hate work, but we all work anyway.”

Mantaro froze at the machine. He watched the balls clatter against the pins and fall without purpose, until the machine was empty once more and cold hands rested on cold metal. He counted every beat of his heart, while he focused on slow and steady breaths, but the accidental insult hung in the air between them . . . the insinuation ‘it could be worse’, while having no idea the depths of his pain. He dropped his head forward. The inside of his mouth tasted like iron, while he gnawed at his lips and muttered in a low voice:

“I – I’m not just being lazy, guys.”

“Okay,” said Kid. “Okay . . . well . . . talk to us. It ain’t easy to understand why you won’t even do the bare minimum, especially when we work our asses off. You got an injury? You self-conscious? We ain’t gonna judge ya, pal! We got your back, honest.”

“I – I don’t know . . . I don’t know if I can say anything . . .”

“If you don’t say anything, we can’t help you,” added Gazelleman. “There’s a solution to every problem, Mantaro. It’s starting to feel like you don’t _trust_ us, and then kind of hurts when we’ve always been there at your side. We just want to help you. If it’s not just you being lazy, there has to be some sort of reason. Are you being bullied?”

Mantaro groaned, as he slammed a fist against the control-pad. The harsh metal struck his hand hard and bruised the callused skin, while he screwed shut his eyes until dark colours flashed across his retinas, and the music over the speakers changed into a rock piece. He recognised a few of the lyrics . . . snatches of songs that played from in the office, ‘I listened to these in my youth’ . . . the scent of expensive cologne, the taste of bitter skin, and that music – _that infernal music_ – mingling with grunts and groans. Mantaro spat:

“If I can trust you, why can’t you trust me?”

“What’d you mean by that?”

“Like, why can’t you just trust I’m not being lazy?”

They shared another look. Seiuchin sighed and shuffled from foot to foot, while he wrung his baseball cap before him with a few muttered comments, and Gazelleman let loose a low groan that caused Mantaro’s hands to fist once again. He threw himself from the chair and marched over to a far window, where he cast narrowed eyes over the street below. The crowds of people milled about unaware of the drama above. He blinked back tears.

“We’re going to work, Mantaro,” said Kid.

“Come find us when you’re ready.”

Gazelleman walked over to him. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, where a soft squeeze followed a soft sigh, and those long fingers slid away from his skin, until Gazelleman joined Kid and their footsteps disappeared until there was nothing left to hear. Mantaro swallowed hard. He said nothing even as Seiuchin shuffled close to him and nudged him gently in the side, and he continued to say nothing even as Seiuchin chirped with a smile:

“Why not talk to Robin, Mantaro?”

 _A wave of nausea swept through him_. The bile burned at the back of his throat, as his lips curled and a terrible pain balled up inside his stomach. Every breath was panted and hard, while he lowered his head and glared with dark shadows across his mask, and Seiuchin – with a gurgled and high-pitched sound – flinched and raised his hand in mock surrender. He ran before Mantaro could even say a single word. Mantaro laughed.

It was a cold and dark sound, which quickly turned hysterical, until he was forced to slide to the ground and bury his head between his knees. He hyperventilated. The words he wanted to say threatened to spill from his lips . . . a scream of a confession waiting to be heard . . . yet the shame and confusion and fear welled inside him, until silence won out and all words were buried in his throat. He clawed at his neck, as the tears raced down his cheeks. There was no way out. It would happen again and again. _There was no way out_.

* * *

 _It was cold inside the_ en suite _. The scent of imported cologne invaded the air, while the white porcelain of the claw-foot bathtub was a far cry from his accommodation, and the ticking of the waterproof clock above the door . . . ticktock, ticktock, ticktock . . . was enough to drive him into madness. He ran the wet cloth over his face and upper body, until skin ran red with the scratches from his nails and the force of the cloth on flesh. Mantaro snatched for the mouthwash. He gargled and spat, but still the acrid taste lingered and burned._

_Tears ran down his cheeks, as he flung open the medicine cabinet. A stray toothbrush sat unopened in its original packaging. He wrenched open the plastic and ran it under the tap, before he scrubbed at his teeth until his gums bled. He spat the blood into the sink and gargled again. He choked on the green liquid. Tears ran down his cheeks, until it merged with the taste of toothpaste and blood and something else . . . Mantaro trembled._

_A knock came at the door. A voice called:_

_‘You may leave now, Mantaro. There is no reason for you to linger.’_

_The lower half of his body-suit clung to him with a cold sweat. Mantaro panted for breath and reached for the shower, but stopped . . . he would hear . . . Mantaro pulled back and clenched his hand against his chest. He stumbled towards the door, where the rest of his body-suit hung from a hook against the wood. It still smelled fresh. Tears pricked at his eyes, as he clenched at the material and pressed it to his face. He wept in earnest._

_* * *_

“I’m sorry,” whispered Mantaro.

A cool breeze drifted over the bridge. It caught at his tears, as he stared down at the rushing waters below, and the rhythmic sound . . . constant, gentle, natural . . . brought a smile to his trembling lips, as he swallowed back the lump forming in his throat. The metal behind him was warm on his hands, as he leaned forward until the bar imprinted on his palms. He stared down at the rocks covered in shadow from the moving sun. It wouldn’t hurt any more.

The sound of a motorbike zoomed past him, as the world continued without him. Tears burned at his eyes, mingling with sweat, and his mouth ran dry as he fought to find words, but over and over and over the same words tumbled from his throat: ‘I’m sorry’. A skidding sound echoed out further down the bridge, until running footsteps came towards him. The fear finally stopped inside. It eased away. There would be no more conflict, no more pain, but only a sleep that would make it all stop at last. He drew in a deep breath. A hand let loose.

“Mantaro, just wait!”

Mantaro leaned forward, as he held on with one hand. It would only take letting go for him to plummet downward onto the rocks and waters below, while his bloodshot eyes struggled to focus on anything but the blurred abyss below, and his fingers alternated between loosening their grip and holding ever tighter. He turned his head to see a familiar helmet. He nearly fell. It was a horrific swelling over terror, as cold despair washed over him, and his muscles grew weak and his vision blanked as he grew light-headed. A low yelp escaped him.

The figure of Robin soon changed, turning into Kevin, and Mantaro dropped his head. He raised his free hand to his chest, where he gripped at his racing heart. The other man slowly walked towards him. The leather coat drifted out behind him in the air, while his muscled arms lifted in a gesture of surrender. A handwritten letter sat crumpled in his hand. Mantaro furrowed his brow, as he wondered who found the note and who gave it to Kevin . . .

“Leave me alone,” whispered Mantaro.

Kevin stopped a mere foot away from Mantaro. He showed him the note, only to let go of the paper, and – with a flourish – it fluttered and rustled in the breeze and drifted far out, until it finally joined the waters below and was lost within the river. It was that easy. Mantaro sniffed and grabbed at the railing once more, until both hands held onto the metal and his back was pressed to the cold material, and Kevin came behind him to whisper:

“He’s hurting you, isn’t he?”

Mantaro furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. A cold chill overcame him, as he shuddered and swallowed back the growing bile, and he cast his eyes down again, but this time over his muscled limbs in an attempt to see some sign. There were no bruises, no stains, no difference in his behaviour or posture or gait . . . only Ramenman noticed how he grew from a studious and hardworking student into a lazy and neglectful pupil, and even he failed to put together the signs and pieces of the puzzle. Mantaro turned his head and asked:

“How’d you –”

“He hurt me, too,” said Kevin. “He calls you into office after training, right? It was always the same thing, except sometimes he’d play music when he couldn’t keep quiet. If you did something well then it’d be a ‘reward’, but if you messed up then it was ‘incentive’, and he would always sit in his chair with his back to the window, too. It never varied.”

“So you . . . you know he . . . how’d you know that’s why –”

“You’re on the edge of a bridge, but I ran away from home.” Kevin shrugged. “It was all I could do, as I was only an eight-year old, but I kept running and kept running and kept running, right up until I was an adult that he couldn’t drag me back. I’m guessing you haven’t tried biting, right? I tried that. I lost a tooth with how hard he hit me.

“It’s the only reason I know why you’d be ready to end it all. I turned to booze and tattoos and fucking over anyone that dared look at me wrong, but nothing really erased the memories or made it go away . . . I didn’t try a bridge, but I did try a blade on my wrist.”

There was a rustle of fabric. Kevin pulled the leather of his sleeve up to his elbow, where a long keloid scar marked the pale skin, and what was once assumed to be a battle wound was now clearly a self-inflicted mark, enough that Mantaro’s mouth fell open. He turned around. The wound was already hidden behind a sleeve when Mantaro leaned against the railing, arms folded and eyes sparkling with tears, and he kept his eyes fixed on that strip of leather, as if he could see beneath to the wound below. Kevin whispered:

“You’re not alone like I was alone.”

Mantaro wept. The tears fell free as he collapsed forward, even while Kevin placed hands on him and pulled him over the railing back onto the tarmac, and – as the heat burned against the slivers of bare skin on his arms – he curled in on a foetal position. Kevin dropped next to him and leaned against the iron bars of the bridge, while he rested an arm on one leg and stretched the other one out far before him. They sat together in an awkward silence.

The only sounds were Mantaro’s choked sobs, until he finally rolled onto his back and stared up at the sunny skies above with an empty and impassive expression, and Kevin sighed and dropped a hand onto his shoulder, as the minimal touch grounded him in the moment. A car drove past and honked at them, only to honk again as it swerved to miss the motorcycle just further ahead. Kevin flipped them off. It brought a broken chuckle from Mantaro, who dragged himself into a sitting position just next to Kevin, as he choked out:

“I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” muttered Kevin. “I also know that look. It’s that same despair that comes with thinking there’s no way out, that you’re going to have to deal with that shit day after day after day, but one day . . . it just stops. That wanker won’t have power over you forever, but that’s how he wins . . . he wants you to think he’s got all the power.”

“But he does, doesn’t he? If I – If I say anything, who’s going to believe a slacker like me that can’t even getting a decent passing grade? Ramenman, Pops, Terryman . . . I’d lose my mentor and my dad and even my best friend after I upset his dad . . . they’ll hate me.”

“No, they won’t. If you think everyone will hate you, it means you won’t tell anyone, and if you don’t tell anyone . . . he can’t get into any trouble. The only power he has is to make _you_ feel powerless, and are you going to let some fucking asshole do that to you?

“Look, I won’t lie to you. The memories never leave and you always have it over you like a shadow, and sometimes you’ll get nightmares or cry or just feel so _angry_ at the world, but you’ll also notice it gets easier and easier every day, as you start to see the good in people and what real goodness looks like. The pain eventually grows numb, distant . . . faint . . .”

Kevin sighed, as he climbed upright with a crick of his neck. He offered a hand to Mantaro, but it was slapped away with a half-hearted gesture, and Mantaro remained half-sitting and half-lying on the tarmac like a broken doll, as he numbly stared forward. A grunt was the only reply, while Kevin went back for his motorcycle and dragged it back to where they previously sat side-by-side, and – as he threw himself astride the beast – he patted the seat behind him and signalled for Mantaro to follow suit. Mantaro refused.

“Trauma isn’t an easy thing to cope with,” said Kevin.

“So what’s the point? Why even try?”

“Because living is the biggest ‘fuck you’ to a guy like that. He’s _expecting_ you to fail, and even if he doesn’t care when you succeed . . . well . . . you know every success is _in spite of him_ and that’s just an extra hurdle that you overcame. Who else has that burden? I don’t know, but I like to think of myself as a survivor, not as a victim. If you give up now –”

“I’d just be the pathetic loser and quitter he thinks I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say _that_. No one who commits suicide is a loser, but just someone that’s all out of options, and I guess what I’m saying is that you still have options. You know suicide is a permanent solution to a potentially temporary problem, right? If you’re willing to spend eternity in a six-foot grave, surely you can wait a day to see if the problem truly is as permanent as you think it is, because if it is temporary then why die?”

Mantaro ran his hands over his face. He pulled himself to his feet, while his stomach growled and pangs of hunger shot through every nerve of his body, and he awkwardly sat behind Kevin, while dropping his head without grace onto his shoulder. Kevin sighed, before he took Mantaro’s arms and wrapped those muscular arms around his waist. The warmth of another person brought a mixture of emotions. He furrowed his brow and buried his face into the long locks of hair, while he drew in a shuddered breath and blinked back tears.

“You’re confusing me,” muttered Mantaro.

“Look, do you know what my biggest regret is in life?” Kevin scoffed. “It’s that I never told anyone that I was in pain. I always wonder if Mummy would have taken me away, or if Terryman would have soccer-punched the git, or if Harabote would have sacked him . . .”

“You never told anyone what he did to you?”

“Not a soul, and because of that he’s now hurting you instead.”

Kevin revved up the motorcycle. A helmet was shoved at Mantaro, who struggled to pull it over the fin of his mask, and it muffled out many of the sounds around them, until the rushing waters became a part of a distant world. It hid the soft sighs of Kevin, but it did nothing to hide the wracks of sobs that could be felt through the reverberating chest. Mantaro gripped tight against the fabric of the pink t-shirt. The motorcycle remained in place for a good minute, which the machine vibrating beneath them, until Kevin asked:

“Do you need me to be there when you tell someone?”

Mantaro wept. Kevin winced, before he raced across the bridge. The wind struck at them and sent locks of blond hair flying out enough to distort his vision, while the sheer noise blocked out all other sounds and sensations, and – for a moment in time – nothing else in the world existed except the thrill of adrenaline and the companionship of a friend. Mantaro closed his eyes, while he continued to cry until his voice grew hoarse. Kevin called back at him:

“It can only get better from here, I promise.”

* * *

_‘It’s a little strange you’d ask to see me, Mantaro.’_

_Mantaro swallowed hard. Every beat of his heart was loud and fast, echoing painfully within his eardrums, and all other sounds were obliterated by the noise, as his hand scratched just in the lobe in a subtle attempt to block out the beats. Harabote stared from across the table, as his eyes peered over from the rims of his glasses. The room started to spin, as coloured spots broke across his vision. Sweat broke over his palms. He grew faint._

_Coldness washed over him, as if iced water were poured over his flesh. He fell forward a step and grabbed at the leather chair before him, as he hunched over and gripped hard enough that his knuckles turned white, and a sharp pain shot through his wrists. The ache to his muscles ran deep. Mantaro screwed shut his eyes, while adrenaline shot through every nerve, and his veins bulged against his forearms as he held tight to the chair. Harabote stood from behind his desk. There was a shuffle of fabric and a squeak of wood on the floorboards._

_‘Is everything alright there, kid?’_

_A hand dropped onto his shoulder. It squeezed tight, forcing Mantaro to open his eyes, and realisation struck hard . . . this would destroy a friendship going back decades, it would decimate the trust of colleagues in an important organisation . . . nothing would be the same again. Tears pricked at his eyes, distorting his vision. What if they blamed him? What if it was easier to fire him? He wiped at his face with his sleeve, while he sniffed and swallowed back a painful lump that slid down his throat. Harabote forced a smile._

_‘Talk to me,’ whispered Harabote._

_He never spoke the words aloud. Even to Kevin, he never managed the full confession. Mantaro ran his hands over his throat . . . he slowly touched at his lips, as a broken smile twitched the corner muscles . . . a staggered sigh escaped him. The heavy weight on his shoulders kept him hunched forward. He locked eyes with Harabote and tried to wet his mouth, as his tongue fell limp with a stubborn refusal to shape the words._

_‘He – He hurts me,’ choked Mantaro._

_A rush of breath fled him. The weight collapsed. Mantaro stumbled a step, as he grasped harder at the leather of the chair, and – with a light head and clearing vision – laughter spilled from his lips over and over and over, until the tears fell free and ran down his cheeks. They tasted bitter on his lips, as he turned with a trembling hand at his face. He smiled. It was against his will, as he fought it with all his might, but it was there . . . he said clearly:_

_‘He hurts me.’_

_* * *_

The newspaper lay crumpled on the ground.

It crinkled in the breeze, while the ink over the image smudged. The face of Robin stared out from between the cold black-and-white text, as a bold headline marked the front page: Chojin Knight Disgraced. A few words bled into one another. Mantaro wiped at his eyes with a sniff, as he sat slumped against the wall of the shack. One leg stretched out before him, while his arms lay folded across his chest, and Mantaro let his head hang low to his chin.

A cold numbness swept through every vein. He stared ahead with unseeing eyes, as a chilly breeze brushed over his bare arms, and the footsteps in the distance barely entered his consciousness, even as the sound of a familiar voice drifted toward him. Meat whispered something to a group . . . _‘he needs you right now’_. . . Mantaro never lifted his head, but he knew the few people were coming closer, until they stopped beside him. Two dropped on either side of him, while one sat cross-legged in front of him.

He sniffed and rubbed at his nose, as he lifted his head. Seiuchin sat opposite him, with a still steaming bowl of beef teriyaki, and Kid sat on his left, while Gazelleman sat on his right. No one said a word, but they didn’t need to say a word. A hand came on his shoulder. It squeezed with a reassuring firm grip, while Gazelleman nudged him from the other side, and Seiuchin slid the beef bowl onto his lap and forced chopsticks into his hand. Kid said in a low voice:  

“Hey, I’m sorry, Mantaro.”

A low laugh escaped Mantaro. He stabbed into the bowl, before flipping over pieces of beef and playing with the rice, and the rich aroma flooded his senses, bringing back vivid memories of home and family and warm embraces. _It was his mother’s recipe_. He smiled to realise they were there on Earth, likely watching over him, even as they gave him space to process things in his time and with his friends. Mantaro took a bite.

Kid shared a look with Seiuchin, while Gazelleman slapped him on the back . . . _‘that must be the first bite you’ve eaten in days’_. . . every bite brought back more and more of his appetite, as he ate faster and faster, and soon the bottom of the porcelain bowl shone. Mantaro threw back his head with a loud sigh, before he slid the bowl back toward Seiuchin. He smiled. It broke at the corners of his eyes and brought a flush to his cheeks, and he half-closed his eyes while Kid took the newspaper and balled it up in frustration. Seiuchin chirped:

“They kept your name out of the papers, _aniki_.”

“Yeah, but everyone knows it was me.”

“Actually, a few people think it was Kevin,” said Kid. “I think it’s why he’s keeping a low profile, ‘cause no one wants that media storm, y’ know? I mean, I won’t lie, we have been wondering if that’s why . . . well . . . why Kevin’s got some issues, but it’s not like he didn’t become a champion and a hero and stuff. If he can get through this –”

“Then I can get though it, too?”

“You have our support, Mantaro,” said Gazelleman. “I _do_ hate for it to seem like we’re making this about us, but I just can’t help but go over things in my mind. I feel like we should have seen the signs. I feel like we should have been more welcoming and listened more and just made it clear that you could _talk_ to us, because it shouldn’t have gotten this far.”

“I hear Ikemen is arranging counselling for anyone that wants it,” continued Kid. “You know Canadian Boy is saying it’s why he failed training? You – You kind o’ gave him courage t’ come forward and speak, plus it might get him back into the League. I know you can’t undo what was done, but you sure as hell stopped it from happening to anyone else. That’s brave, Mantaro. I don’t know if I’d have been that brave. We got your back.”

Tears welled. Mantaro turned his hands palm upwards; every clench and unclench reddened the skin, until he clenched his hands and kept them clenched, as he watched the knuckles turn white under the intense pressure. The world around him blurred. It distorted through the tears, but the colours remained bright and the hazy figures of his friends never moved. A few choked and heaved breaths escaped him. Mantaro opened his mouth to speak, but a cold sweat swept over him . . . _‘– it’s why he failed training –’ . . ._ Mantaro whispered:

“Do you think he’s why I graduated?”

A tremor ran through his body. The bile rose to the back of his throat, burning with a bitter taste that only brought back more memories . . . _a retching and gagging, tears spilling down reddened cheeks, loud slurping noises echoing out_. . . Mantaro buried his head into his hands. He clawed at his mask and hair, while his lips trembled and his heart raced. Seiuchin shot forward. He grabbed onto Mantaro’s ankles, where he provided a reassuring squeeze, and – as Mantaro forced himself to look upward – Seiuchin squeezed again with a sniff.

“I don’t think it matters, _aniki_ ,” said Seiuchin. “Even if he passed you on – ah . . . _stuff . . ._ you still totally fought against Kinnikuman all on your own and won! He’s the best! I grew up watching his matches and always wanted to be like him, but you _earned_ that victory!”

“And this is your biggest victory yet, too,” chirped Kid.

“You can’t give up on yourself _now_ ,” added Gazelle.

The tears finally fell free. Mantaro wept in earnest, even as he smiled through broken laughter, and a strange sense of closure merged with the panic. The emotions swirled inside him, while he cast his eyes from face to face, and he knew without a doubt: they would never give up on him. A weight lifted from his shoulders. He collapsed onto Kid with a long sigh, as his eyes half-closed and his mind started to drift, and Kid – with a low hum – draped an arm around him and squeezed him with a chuckle. Mantaro murmured:

“Thanks, guys. I really appreciate this . . .”

Seiuchin continued to hold onto his legs, while Gazelleman rested a hand on his arm. The way they surrounded him acted like a cocoon, with jokes and complaints all around, and it was as if nothing had changed . . . they were still his friends, they were still normal . . . Mantaro listened as they spoke among themselves. The world was finally at peace. Sleep swept over him for the first time in weeks, as he dreamt of his friends . . .

* * *

_Mantaro laughed at her joke. The sunlight caught at her red locks, until they appeared almost streaked with pink, and a deep blush overcame his cheeks, as he saw how her green eyes glistened with every smile and giggle. He walked across the canvas of the ring, only to lean against the ropes and look down at her with a quickening of his heart.  A silence fell between them. It was beautiful and warm, as their eyes locked and pupils dilated, and he swallowed hard while scratching nervously at the back of his neck. Jacqueline chuckled._

_A faint smell of burgers drifted over from the barbeque close to the stands, where the noise of gossip and laughter and arguments drifted out from the crowds, and snatches of a debate between Suguru and Terry drifted out . . . ‘you can’t serve gyudon at a barbeque, it ain’t right!’, ‘bah, you just want to promote meat from your ranch!’ . . . it all felt so normal. He furrowed his brow and bit into his lip, as a brief taste of iron flooded his tongue._

_Mantaro rapidly blinked. He flinched when Jacqueline touched his arm, as cold memories and dark associations flooded his mind, but then he saw it . . . guilt. It washed over her and turned her smile into a frown, as her gaze dropped and her shoulders slumped. The hand slowly pulled away, as an apology stumbled from her plump lips. He yelped. A quick snatch of her wrist kept her hand in place, as he moved it to his chest and pressed it to the pectoral muscle, and the smile finally crept back, as she felt his racing heart. He choked out:_

_‘Would you like to go on a date, Jacqui?’_

_A raised eyebrow followed a cock of her head. It spoke of concern. Mantaro struggled to control his heartbeat, as his cheeks grew impossibly hot and his mouth ran dry, but he knew one thing: he was ready. He lifted the hand and chastely kissed her palm. It was her turn to blush. Kid and Gazelleman cheered from the side of the ring, until Seiuchin dragged them away with a plea for privacy, and Mantaro dropped his head with an embarrassed groan. A gentle laugh escaped Jacqueline, as she reached up to cup his cheek and chirped:_

_‘I’d love to go on a date, Manta!’_

_* * *_

“Hey, don’t they look familiar?

Jacqueline pointed across the street. A young couple sat outside a cosy café, where flowers weaved their path across the lattices on the brick walls, and between them sat a platter of various foods, with a tall glass of milkshakes complete with two straws. Mantaro smiled, as laughter echoed out from across the quiet road. They were happy. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, while he Jacqueline linked arms with him and kissed his cheek.

The man on the left sported long blond locks, which fell about his waist. The dyed-pink fringe matched well with his pink t-shirt and clothing accents, while his blue eyes remained ever focused on his partner, and occasionally callused fingers would scratch at the stubble of his chin, while he leaned back with leads parted in an inelegant manner. It was difficult to discern his companion, as he kept his head low and seemed to hide into himself, but he bore dark brown skin and messy blond hair that lay wild over his shoulders.

“I can’t make out his face,” said Mantaro.

“He’s wearing a face-plate, that’s why,” chirped Jacqueline. “I’m so sure that’s Kevin Mask and Warsman! We should go over and say hello. Wait, is that okay? If they’re trying to go incognito as just Kevin and Nikolai, would we be blowing their cover?”

Mantaro opened his mouth to speak, but Kevin caught their gaze. He lifted a hand and waved them over, while Warsman – with his head low, white eyes staring at his plate – strove to hide his cyborg-state as much as possible. The suit he wore was fashionable, yet casual, but Mantaro blushed to realise that he had never seen Warsman out of his uniform. He was lost in thought when Jacqueline tugged at his sleeve. They darted across the road and stood just beside the veranda, while Kevin nodded to them and took a sip of his drink.

A pile of shopping sat beside Warsman; fresh bread, bottled water, various books, some electrical tools . . . it was a strange reminder that the various idols were just people, with lives of their own and the same mundane needs, and he offered his hand with a smile. Warsman shook it with a quiet ‘thank you’, before he quickly returned to his meal. Kevin scoffed. A stray piece of potato was flicked toward Mantaro, as Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I notice _I_ don’t get a greeting,” said Kevin. “That’s rather rude.”

“Hey, you invited us over here, Mask,” muttered Mantaro.

“Ah, yes, I believe I _did_ wave you and your girlfriend over here.”

Kevin smiled and shrugged. He bent at a strange angle to his side, as he fished inside one of the shopping bags, and – without much ceremony – sat back upright, as he handed a large and expensive book to Mantaro without even making eye contact. The book remained in one hand, while Kevin used his other arm to lean on the back of his chair. It lacked a plain paper cover, still wrapped in the cellophane and clearly bought in a hurry, and Mantaro wondered briefly whether that was a British habit. The title simply read in bold: ‘A History of the Sky’.

“A certain birdie told me you like to stargaze,” said Kevin.

“Huh, yeah,” said Mantaro. “It’s my favourite hobby.”

“Well, it’s my ‘thank you’ for your courage.” Kevin waved a dismissive hand. “I know everyone thinks it’s me who said something, and – at first – their bloody gossip really pissed me off, but then more and more people came forward . . . it was hard to be annoyed then. You didn’t just give me closure, but you gave all those people closure, too. Good job, Mantaro.”

“I – ah – I didn’t – I mean I thought –”

“No one ever _tries_ to be a hero. It’s just something you _are_. You could have taken the easy way out, and he could have hurt more people, but instead you came forward and no one else need ever be hurt again. Just take the book, Mantaro. It’s the least I can do. I’m not going to get all mushy or start to cry or throw you a parade, but I had to do something, mate.”

Kevin raised a closed fist. It hung in the air without any sign of movement, but Mantaro – with a smile – caught the subtle jerk of Warsman’s head . . . Mantaro fist-bumped Kevin. They opened their fists as their hands pulled back, while Kevin mimicked the sound of an explosion, and something passed between them, as they locked gazes. A small breeze picked up speed, catching at various fallen leaves and spreading the scent of the flowers, and it rustled Kevin’s hair until he pushed it back to clear his vision. Mantaro smiled and said:

“Thanks, Kevin. It means a lot.”

The book was heavy in his grip. Mantaro quickly caught it with his free hand, while he noticed that it touched upon shared stars between Earth and Planet Kinniku, and one of them – so bright and so beautiful – painted the front cover with its brilliance. He smiled and held the book to his chest, while Jacqueline leaned against him with a low hum. A tune of classical music drifted out from the café. Mantaro blushed and murmured:

“I’ll still see you around, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.”

Mantaro smiled.

* * *

_Mantaro yawned, as he locked the dressing-room door. At the far end of the corridor, Kevin leaned against a wall with a cold drink in hand and straw beneath his mask, and Warsman – beside him with perfect posture – wildly gesticulated with loud words of Russian. A book was awkwardly balanced between his arm and chest, while Kevin listened with a focused intensity that was admirable in its level of respect. A sweat glistened across his skin._

_A towel was draped around Kevin’s shoulders. He cricked his neck and said something in English that sounded flirtatious, but – midway through his sentence – his eyes fell upon Mantaro and silence fell between the two lovers. Kevin softened his eyes, as if he were smiling behind his mask. He lifted a hand and gave a thumbs-up._

_Tears pricked at Mantaro’s eyes, as he laughed and nodded._

_He returned the thumbs-up with a smile._


End file.
